


Wild and Unwise

by sevenfists



Series: Weight and Motion [2]
Category: Firefly, Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-11
Updated: 2007-02-11
Packaged: 2018-10-19 06:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10634181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenfists/pseuds/sevenfists
Summary: "No," Dean said, his voice getting louder. "Absolutely fuckin' not. Are you out of your mind?""It's a distinct possibility," Zoe said dryly, dealing cards. Jayne snorted.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A little tag to Weight and Motion, set very near the end of that story.

"No," Dean said, his voice getting louder. "Absolutely fuckin' not. Are you out of your mind?"

"It's a distinct possibility," Zoe said dryly, dealing cards. Jayne snorted.

"That's enough," Mal said, glaring. Jayne had taken to loitering in the cargo bay since he'd been laid up, and while Mal appreciated that it kept the man mostly out of trouble, it was a mite inconvenient when Mal wanted to have a private conversation with somebody hell-bent on avoiding him.

"Yeah, are we done here?" Dean muttered, shifting his weight and glancing toward the stairs. He looked ready to bolt.

" _No_ ," Mal said, taking care to keep his voice quiet enough that it wouldn't carry. "I don't much feel like chasin' you all over this boat any longer. You stand right there and we'll have ourselves a little discussion."

"Christ," Dean said. "Okay, fine, here's our discussion: no way in hell am I going outside unless we're sitting on solid ground. I don't—you know I don't like it, Mal, don't make me do this shit."

"We need three people," Mal said. "You, me, and Zoe. You'll do it."

Dean grimaced. "But why can't—"

"Jayne's no good until his arm's healed," Mal said. "Simon's useless at anything that don't involve cuttin' on people. I need River in the cockpit, and Kaylee—"

"Not an option," Dean said.

"Exactly," Mal said. "So there you have it. You got any suggestions? Think maybe we should go pick up a Reaver or two, get ourselves some _yu kuai_ forced labor?"

"No," Dean said, face pale, looking like he'd just swallowed something mightily unpleasant to the taste.

Mal sighed, pity tugging hard at his chest. "I know you don't want to," he said. "And truth be told, I reckon Zoe and I could do it ourselves. It ain't an emergency."

Dean frowned. "So why—"

"Because some day it _will_ be an emergency, and if you don't know your _piyan_ from a coupling wrench, might be we all get blown out the airlock. Best you learn now." Mal rubbed a hand over his face. Dean was looking at him like Mal had just cheerfully stepped on his puppy. If it were anyone else balking, Mal would have ignored their whining without a second thought, but Dean—well, Mal was soft. Wasn't like that was a secret.

"I _can't_ ," Dean said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"You will," Mal said. "Tell Zoe to get you suited up."

"We're going _now_?" Dean asked, and his voice cracked on the last word.

"Soon as you get suited up," Mal said. "I got a panel hanging off my ship, that ain't somethin' to mess around with."

"But—"

" _Go_ ," Mal said, and started up the stairs toward the engine room.

Kaylee and River were sitting on the engine room floor, knitting. Mal stared for a moment, watching River's needles fly, Kaylee's moving slower but not by much.

"Since when is my ship a gorram craft center," Mal said, using his boot to nudge aside a pile of yarn.

Kaylee looked up and beamed at him. "Oh, hi, Cap'n. We're just makin' some things for the baby. Here, look," she said, setting aside her needles. "Look at what River made!" She held up a tiny hat and tiny little socks.

Mal blinked. "Well. That's nice," he said. "You got an extra battery for the suits?"

"I already _told_ you, you don't need an extra, I wired them up so the one battery's all you need," Kaylee said. "Extra might blow out the circuitry."

"Don't have to hook it up," Mal said. "I was just thinkin' it might make Dean a little easier, thinkin' he's got a backup—"

"Awww, you're _worried_ about him! That's so sweet," Kaylee said.

"Captain's very sensitive about it, Kaylee," River said, but she was grinning too, that little harridan.

" _Guan ni ziji de shi,_ " Mal snapped. Gorram women, always thought they knew everything about everything. "Kaylee, I'd have you over my knee if you weren't about to pop."

"Thursday morning," River says, her needles clacking.

"Huh," Mal said. "That soon?"

Kaylee rolled her eyes. "I'm a week late!"

"Well," Mal said. He scratched his chin. "So you got those batteries?"

"Down in the cargo bay, in the box by the override panel," Kaylee said. "Just don't hook 'em into the main battery supply."

"I heard you the first time," Mal said, and left. He wished Kaylee would just hurry up and have that gorram baby.

Zoe had gotten Dean mostly into his suit, and he was standing there, frowning, while she tightened the straps on front. They both looked up when Mal came down the stairs.

"He's about ready, sir," Zoe said.

"No I'm not," Dean said.

"We're goin' out in ten minutes, and if you ain't ready by then, I reckon that's just too bad," Mal said, and crouched to dig around in the boxes piled up underneath the stairs. Things were less orderly lately, with Kaylee mostly out of commission, but Mal found the spare batteries soon enough.

"Zoe, we playin' or what," Jayne demanded, thumping his cast against the crate they'd been using as a card table.

Zoe glanced at Mal, one eyebrow quirked, and he nodded, silent permission. She gave Dean's suit a final tug and stepped back. "You'll do fine," she said.

"Sure," Dean said, mouth twisted.

Mal stood up, beckoned Dean over with a tilt of his head. The boy moved slowly, hampered by the suit, but he came nonetheless.

"Extra batteries," Mal said, holding them up. "In case life support fails."

"Oh god, is that gonna happen?" Dean asked, his eyes widening.

Mal clenched his jaw. "None of the suits on my boat have ever failed," he said.

"But they _could_ ," Dean said. "Oh god."

"That's what the batteries are for," Mal said. "Turn around."

"The rest of the suits don't have extra batteries," Dean said, turning.

"That's cause the rest of us ain't mincing about like a schoolgirl at her first dance," Mal said. "Hold still." He hooked the batteries to the back of Dean's suit, one one each side of the main battery, strapped in but not connected. "There."

"What if they fall off," Dean said.

" _Dean_ ," Mal said, losing patience. "You think I mean to let you get killed?"

There was a silence. Dean's shoulders drew up toward his ears. "No," he said finally, sullen.

Mal leaned in and pressed his lips to the soft place right behind Dean's ear. He smelled like soap and Kaylee's mango shampoo, that she'd begged Simon for until he gave in. "You'll be fine," Mal murmured.

"I better be," Dean said.

"You will be," Mal said. He pulled away. "Don't _huo_ in your helmet."

Dean turned around, glaring. "I _won't_ ," he said.

"Because I can get the doc to give you a shot, if you think you'll need it—"

"I'll be fine," Dean said. "Jesus Christ, Mal."

"You vomit in that suit, I will make you scrub it out with a toothbrush," Mal said.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Dean said, but there was no heat in his voice.

"You hold tight," Mal said. "Me and Zoe got to suit up, then we'll get goin'."

"Sure," Dean said. "Hold tight. Yep."

Dean was shaking as they stepped into the airlock, his face pale, his breath coming fast. "Helmet," Mal said, holding it out, and Dean accepted it with trembling hands.

"We're sealed," Zoe said, punching buttons.

"Breathe," Mal said to Dean. "You got plenty of air. Stick close to Zoe, and don't do anything she don't tell you to do first. These suits are all programmed in Chinese, so yours says anything at all, you tell her right away. No actin' like you know what it's sayin', I know your Chinese ain't that good yet."

"Okay," Dean said—too scared to argue, and that twisted Mal's stomach right up.

"Helmets on," he said, and Dean's hissed shut smoothly, but Mal checked the seal anyway.

"Ready," Zoe said, and Mal said, "Do it," and all the air flooded out of the lock—one long hiss and then they were all weightless, floating there.

Mal snagged his tool kit out of the air. "Let's go," he said, and the airlock door opened onto bright space, millions of distant stars and Liu Moon hanging there in the sky below them, like a paper lamp.

His radio crackled with the sound of Dean sucking in a harsh breath, and he looked over, concerned—but Dean was still mostly upright, and clutching hard at his tool kit, which was good enough for Mal.

"What do you think, Zoe," he said, "half an hour?"

"Any more than that and Jayne'll be up to no good," Zoe said.

"Reckon that's so," Mal said. "Let's get to it."

One of the heat shield panels had blown just as they broke atmo, leaving Liu, and the one below it was hanging loose, some of the bolts warped and melted. It was easy enough to repair, but they couldn't enter atmo again until it was fixed, and Mal wanted to be planetside before Kaylee's baby popped—mostly to get the doc to quit fussing so gorram much.

Zoe and Dean went out first, pulling themselves sideways along the rungs attached to the hull of the ship. Mal followed, carrying a spare shield panel. It was bigger than he was, and unwieldy, but easy enough to handle in null gravity. He pulled himself out and up, following the curve of the hull until he reached the bare place where the blown panel had been.

The newly-exposed inner hull was scorched black in places. Mal hauled the new heat shield panel into place, cursing at it until it settled neatly, sitting just so in the space that was left for it.

"Oh Christ," he heard Dean say, his voice tinny over the cheap helmet radio.

"You're fine," Zoe said. "Hold that in place."

"Oh god, I'm gonna die," Dean said. " _Fuck_ , what if I—"

"Hold that," Zoe said, calm as ever.

Mal could see the Core from where he was, the sun a blinding pinprick at the center of it; and further out, the haze of nebulae, star clusters, a wheeling galaxy here and there. Growing up on Shadow, the universe had looked so full, the sky thick with stars and the Milky Way wide as a river. Out in the black, though, things were more spread out. The scope of it was more apparent, all the millions of miles from one place to wherever else. It was enough to make a man question his place in life.

He unhooked his tool kit from his belt and stuck it to the hull, the magnets sewn into the lining holding it there. Below him, he could see Zoe and Dean working on the loose panel—Zoe doing most of the work, moving confidently, and Dean clinging to a rung, passing tools over.

The radio clicked on. "Here," Zoe said. "Cut off that bolt. Careful with the saw—it's old."

"So why don't we get a new one," Dean said.

"Captain's too stingy," Zoe said.

"You realize I can hear you," Mal said, screwing in the first of the bolts that would hold the new heat shield in place.

"Fuckin' eavesdropper," Dean said, and Zoe laughed.

Mal screwed in the next three bolts along the top edge of the panel, holding onto the ship with his free hand. It was mindless work, and easy enough, just simple fastening—ten more minutes and he'd be done, and back inside, and they'd be on their way to Three Oaks, to hunker down for a week or so, let Kaylee recover after having her baby. To be honest, Mal was looking forward to it—they'd gone months without any sort of vacation, and Mal had every intention of luring Dean into his bunk and not let him out again for at least twenty-four hours ,or until Jayne got in trouble with the law, whichever came first.

His radio crackled on, then, and Dean was groaning, long and pained, and Zoe cursing a stream of words that Mal hadn't heard her use since the war.

"Zoe," Mal said tightly, craning his head around to look, but he couldn't see anything—just two white-suited figures below him, their helmets close together.

"The saw slipped," Zoe said, and if Mal didn't know her so well, he wouldn't have heard the worry in her voice. "He'll need Simon."

"How bad is it," Mal said, panic coiling in his chest.

"Fuckin' _hurts_ ," Dean gasped, and that set Mal to ease a bit, that Dean was still conscious and swearing.

"Get him inside," Mal said.

"What about the shield panels," Zoe said, but she was moving toward the airlock, tugging Dean along behind her, one hand hooked in his belt.

Mal hesitated, torn—but he had to look out for Kaylee, too, and there wasn't much he could do for Dean other than get in the doc's way. "I'll do it," he said. It would kill him, but _renci de Shangdi_ , he'd get it done.

He switched his helmet radio over to the main channel for the ship. "Simon to cargo bay," he said, and flipped it off again. They'd take care of Dean. Mal needed to get the gorram heat shield panels attached back to his gorram _xi niu_ boat.

He put it all out of his mind. Dean was injured—and Mal didn't even know what exactly had happened—but that would have to wait. He took his time screwing down the panel, and then pulled himself along to where Zoe and Dean had been working. They'd almost finished. He bolted that one down too, and then headed for the airlock, all three tool kits tied to his belt and floating out behind him.

He stripped off his suit and left it lying on the floor in a crumpled heap. He'd put it away later.

Jayne was still sitting in the cargo bay, shuffling his cards. "Med bay," he said.

Mal forced himself not to run.

Dean was sitting on the table in the infirmary, sheet-white and still wearing the bottom half of his suit, and his left shirt sleeve was soaked with blood to the elbow. Simon was bent over him, eyebrows drawn together with concentration.

"He's fine," Zoe said, appearing at Mal's elbow.

"What happened," Mal said.

"Sliced off two of his fingers," Zoe said. "I patched his suit and got him inside."

" _Cao_ ," Mal breathed, and stepped into the room.

Dean looked up. "You _da tuo dabian_ ," he said, slurring his words together—drugged, looked like, his pupils blown, and his accent even more atrocious than usual.

"Who taught you to swear like that," Mal said. "River?"

"Captain...this is a delicate procedure," Simon said. "If you'll just—"

"I'm shutting up," Mal said, and sat in the chair by the table. Simon was reattaching Dean's fingers with the dermal mender—one of them was back on, but the other was resting on a tray along with some of Simon's tools, and Mal had to look away from it, blanching. He'd seen worse, but something about the circumstances, about it being _Dean_ —

Zoe was still standing in the doorway, watching. Mal caught her gaze and she raised her chin at him, acknowledging, and headed up the stairs toward the kitchen.

"Okay," Simon said. "That's the first one."

"Christ," Dean said, rolling his head against the raised back of the table. "Fuckin'. You gonna do the other?"

"That's the idea," Simon said, and picked up Dean's other finger.

"It hurts," Dean said, and bit down hard on his lower lip.

"I know," Simon said. "I'm sorry."

Dean reached out with his good hand, flailing, and Mal caught it with his own right hand, let Dean squeeze until he felt his knuckles might burst, but he didn't let go.

"This is my fault," he said softly.

"No," Dean said. "I mean, yeah, you coulda let me stay on the fuckin' spaceship, but. You had no way of knowing, Mal."

"Nonetheless," Mal said.

"Oh, shut the fuck up, you miserable bastard, you're always lookin' for some more guilt to carry around," Dean said.

"Charming as this is to listen to," Simon said, "I'd prefer if you'd wait until I'm done sticking your finger back on your hand."

"Everyone's a critic," Dean said, and then hissed through his teeth. " _Fuck_ , Simon, goddammit, that hurts!"

"There, I'm done," Simon said, and put the dermal mender down. He held Dean's hand in both of his, turning it about, peering at the new pink lines right above the knuckles. "It'll hold. You'll be sore for a few days, so try not to use this hand too much."

"Huh," Dean said. "So I'm fixed?"

"You're fixed," Simon said.

"Freaky space medicine," Dean grumbled.

"I'll give you another shot," Simon said, scrubbing his hands at the sink. "It'll put you out for a while, but you need to rest so your body can finish the healing process."

Dean squeezed Mal's hand, more gently than he had been. "Pain meds sound real good right about now."

Simon gave Dean the promised shot and left the infirmary, after he'd gotten Mal to promise to call him if anything started flashing on the monitor.

"So," Mal said.

"Jesus Christ, if you try to blame this on yourself I'm gonna kick you right in the butt," Dean said. He closed his eyes and shifted his shoulders against the table, settling in.

"I won't," Mal said. He touched Dean's forehead, a little uncertain, and then stroked his fingers through Dean's sweat-damp hair. "You know, I got my ear cut off once."

Dean cracked one eye open. "Really?"

"Man by the name of Niska. He was a mite irritated with me. Took me and Wash, and when Zoe came to get us, he sent her back with Wash and with my left ear."

"Huh," Dean said. He lifted his hand and traced the rim of Mal's ear, tucked his fingers behind it and rubbed the outer curve. "Feels okay to me."

"Simon put it back on," Mal said. "Good as new. Just like your fingers."

"I can't really feel them," Dean said. "It just kinda hurts."

"Give it some time," Mal said.

Dean closed his eyes again. "So what happens next?"

"Well," Mal said. "River's steerin' us toward Three Oaks. I figure Kaylee can have her baby there, and maybe you and me can look toward havin' ourselves a little vacation."

"If you're talking about ass-fucking, I'm all for it," Dean said.

"I was tryin' not to be crude," Mal said.

"Your funeral," Dean said, and yawned, his jaw cracking. "I'm just gonna take a little nap now, okay?"

"Okay," Mal said. He leaned down and kissed Dean; it was an awkward angle, but Dean opened his mouth easily, letting Mal in.

"Sentimental," Dean said when they broke apart.

"I have my moments," Mal said, and he sat there until he was sure Dean had fallen asleep.  



End file.
